‘That must have been upsetting for you.’
A nod. ‘Yes. My mother was awarded full custody, but my father got to see me once a month. Just for one day. This particular weekend he told me we were going to play a game in the woods, where he worked as a gamekeeper. I was going to help him snare rabbits.’
Matteo listened intently, his face showing how appalled he was that something like this had happened to her.
‘We went deep into the woods. It was dark and damp and there almost wasn’t any light...the trees were so thick.’
‘Were you scared?’
‘Not to start with. I was comfortable being in nature. I’d played in those woods. I was with my father. I thought I was safe. And then he showed me a bunker he’d made.’
‘A bunker...? What was it like?’
‘Not very big. Maybe the size of a single bed? The walls were lined with wood. Old pallets, I think. He told me we were going to play a game, and that to play I had to get inside the bunker and wait whilst he went and chased rabbits towards it. He told me the roof would open easily. That I’d be able to push it open and the rabbits would jump into the dark for me to play with.’
‘Mio Dio...’
‘Once he put the roof down I heard a padlock click. He said “Przepraszam”—I’m sorry—and then he left me.’
She took a sip of water, reliving that moment once again in her mind, hearing her father’s footsteps as he walked away and how it felt for her tiny fists to beat against the solid roof above her head, lined with soil.
‘He would come back when he could, to bring me food and water. I tried to escape, but...he was stronger than me. Once he brought a book and a candle, so I had light to read.’
‘How long were you underground?’
‘Six weeks.’
He looked sick. ‘How did you escape?’
‘I was found. My father had reported me missing, of course. Said I’d disappeared when he’d left me outside a shop. After a few weeks the police began to suspect him and followed him into the woods. Dogs found me. I’ll always remember hearing them come closer, their barks echoing above me. I began to scream. I screamed so much I had no voice for three days.’
‘And your father?’
She swallowed hard. ‘He’s in prison now.’
He nodded. ‘Do you visit him?’
Why did he not know about this? She worked with his father’s doctor! How come none of this had shown in her background searches?
Because she’d been a child. The records would be sealed.
‘No. I’ve never gone back to Poland.’
‘Do you think you should?’
Her head tilted to one side as she assessed him. ‘Have you ever visited your captors in jail?’
Matteo thought for a moment, then smiled, caught out. ‘Fair point. But my captors were strangers—yours was your father. You must have loved him?’
‘I did. But not any more. It’s not the same.’
‘And...’ He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. ‘Do you have any flashbacks? Any issues from your captivity?’
‘Not really. Apart from needing a night-light.’
‘That’s understandable.’ He looked out at the broad expanse of rich orange-pink sky, cloudless and still.
‘So, Your Highness, as you can see we are both injured birds.’
‘I guess we are. But we’re resilient and we’ll both fly again.’
She looked uncertain. ‘I hope I already am flying.’
He nodded. ‘You are. Believe it.’
She smiled back, thankful for his understanding and support. Who’d have thought it? That she’d be sharing her story with the Crown Prince?
How many times had she gazed at these palace walls, wanting to let him know that she understood what he had gone through? How many times had she considered writing him a letter but decided against it? Assuming that he wouldn’t actually see it, and that it would be dealt with by a private secretary.
They were probably the only two people on this island who shared such an experience. It bonded them. And here she was. Sitting across from him, watching the sunset, sharing with him her darkest nightmare.
‘You’re a good man, Your Highness.’
He smiled back at her, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘Call me Matteo.’
She nodded. ‘Krystiana.’
* * *
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Had she been a fool to blurt it out like that? She’d never told anyone here about what had happened. Only her Aunt Carolina knew—no one else. Until today, anyway. She hadn’t even told Dr Bonetti, and he was her partner in the medical practice they ran in the town of Ventura.
But sitting opposite Matteo like that, being that close to him, she had wanted him to know. It was as simple as that. Being kidnapped was such a unique experience, and she’d needed him to know that she understood it. That she’d been through it, too.
He’d been so kind.
‘Thank you, Krystiana. For sharing that with me,’ he had said. ‘It must have taken great courage to share something so...personal.’
She’d pushed her tagliatelli around her plate, biting her bottom lip. Trying to work out why she’d told him everything. Was she being selfish?
‘I’ve kept it inside for so long... It felt good to get it out. I guess I knew you’d understand.’
She’d looked up, expecting to see sympathy or pity on his face, but he hadn’t looked at her that way at all.
‘Other people don’t. Not truly,’ he’d said. ‘They couldn’t.’
‘No.’ She’d sipped her water.
‘I don’t want you to feel bad for telling me. I can see it on your face that you’re uncomfortable now.’
She’d smiled wryly at his perceptiveness. Was she an open book? Could he read her? Was she so obvious? Or was it that only he could see, because he’d been through the same thing?
She’d given a short laugh. ‘I’m normally so private. I keep myself to myself. My best friend doesn’t even know. There’s no alcohol in this water, right?’ she tried to joke.
Matteo had nodded. ‘I’m honoured you shared it with me.’
Krystiana continued to stare at the bedroom ceiling. So different from the one in her villa. Back home she had a ceiling fan in the centre of the roof; here she had a chandelier, reflecting the brightness from her night-light around the room.
Her conversation with Matteo hadn’t been uncomfortable because she’d shared her story with him—it had become uncomfortable because she hadn’t realised what sharing it might make her feel. She’d entrusted him with something of herself and she didn’t like it. Okay, it was only a small piece of her past, but still... If she’d told him that, what else might she say?
She felt as if she’d given him some of her power and that felt wrong. It was an unexpected emotion.
She got little sleep that night, and when she did finally wake in the morning she vowed to herself that maybe it would be a good idea to stay away from the Crown Prince for a while, He had a busy life, anyway—she probably wouldn’t see him any more, and she would have to leave the palace to go to work each day at her practice and see her real patients.
She’d told him about her kidnapping because she’d often thought he would be intrigued to know, but that was as far as it went. That was all. Their lives were separate.
It was as if she was just renting a room and he was her extraordinary new landlord.
* * *
A car was waiting to take her to work. A sleek, black armoured vehicle, with its engine idling and one of those dark-suited Secret Service guys behind the wheel.
Krystiana trotted down the steps, ready for work, but also ready to drive past her old home and see the wreckage for herself first. She was anxious, her belly full of a twisting apprehension so that she hadn’t been a
ble to manage any breakfast and had only had a single cup of coffee.
‘Come on, Bruno! Hurry up!’ Her dog, a middle-aged pooch of indeterminate breed, with the character of a grumpy geriatric, ambled after her.
Sergio opened the car door for her. ‘Have a good day, Dr Szenac.’
‘Grazie, Sergio.’ As she got into the car, she almost jumped out of her skin. ‘Your Highness! What are you doing in here? I thought this was the car that was going to take me to work?’
He smiled. ‘Matteo—remember? And good morning to you, too. I thought I would come with you to survey the damage to your house.’
‘B-but...’ she stuttered. ‘Aren’t you busy? Surely you have more important things to be getting on with? Like helping to run a country?’
‘One of my citizens has had her home destroyed by a fool who should never have been on the road in the first place. I am doing my duty by attending the scene of the tragedy to see if there is anything I can do.’ He leaned in. ‘It’s called being supportive—so accept that fact and close the door. Bruno!’
He patted his hands against his lap and her dog jumped in, up onto the car’s expensive leather seats and smoothly onto the Prince’s lap. He gave her a smile that was cunning and smooth, sliding his sunglasses down onto his face.
‘Is that your disguise?’ she asked.
‘No. I have a baseball cap, too, and when we get to your villa both of us will have hard hats. The site manager will show us around.’
‘They’re working on it already?’
‘From first light this morning.’
She pulled her legs in and Sergio shut the door behind her. ‘That’s impressive.’
‘It’s what I do.’
Krystiana smiled at him and then she laughed. He really was very kind. And going completely above and beyond anything she’d expected of him. Not that she did expect anything of him. He’d been her patient for one day. Now he wasn’t. And, although he’d said they were friends, she wasn’t sure how to negotiate that particular relationship.
She didn’t have the best track record with men, and she hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she kept to herself. She’d only got one friend and that was Anna Scottolini, her next-door neighbour. She’d neglected to tell him that the best friend she’d mentioned was a senior citizen in her ninety-second year of life.
‘You passed, by the way.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your yearly physical. With flying colours. You’re fit as a fiddle.’
‘How fit are fiddles?’
She shrugged. ‘Very, it would seem. Bruno! Don’t be embarrassing!’
Bruno had decided the lap of the Prince was a very good place to begin washing his nether regions and had set to with gusto. Feeling her cheeks flame red, she reached over to grab the dog and pull him onto the seat between them.
‘Sit there. Good dog.’
Matteo smiled at her and she felt something stir within her. Whatever it was, it made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.
Matching him, she pulled her sunglasses from her handbag and slid them over her face and turned to look out of the window.
If I don’t look at him, I won’t think about him. Yeah. Like that’s going to work!
* * *
Krystiana’s villa sat atop a small hill on the road into Ventura—or out of it, depending upon which way you were going. When Matteo stepped out of the vehicle in a simple white shirt and dark trousers, and donned his baseball cap and sunglasses, he could see the palace far in the distance, shining like a pearl. White and glittering.
He wondered briefly, now he knew exactly where she lived, if he would be able to spot her home from the palace walls?
Because of course he would always think of her now. No matter what happened in the future, he would feel a kinship with this woman at his side because of what they’d both been through. After she’d told him what had happened he’d initially been shocked, but drawn in by her story. So similar and yet so different from his own.
Six weeks underground. Alone and in the dark.
Kindred spirits. That was what they were. So he was glad he’d made her the offer to stay at the palace whilst her home was worked on, and he did want to see the damage for himself—but had it only been that? Concern for one of his citizens? Concern for someone he’d like to think of as a friend? Or something more?
He felt at ease when he was with her. There was something relaxing about her. But that in turn worried him, simply because it was so easy to be with her. He could be himself—and he hadn’t been himself for a very long time. It was confusing and alarming, because what did it mean? For so long now he’d held himself apart from everyone. Ever since he’d returned home. And yet he’d spent one day with her and had discovered that...
He turned to look at her house. At the metal fencing around the perimeter and the crumpled mess beyond it. Because that was what it was. A crumpled mess of brick and rubble, mortar and plaster, glass and wood. He’d seen something similar when he’d once gone to help during the aftershocks of an earthquake the island had experienced a few years back.
Thank goodness she hadn’t been inside when it had happened. If Dr Bonetti’s wife hadn’t been ill he’d have done his physical as usual and Krystiana would have been at home.
Fate? He didn’t believe in that any more.
Pure luck? Maybe...
A man in a high-vis vest and a yellow hard hat came around the corner. He raised a hand and ambled slowly over the loose rubble before coming to the metal fencing and opening a panel. ‘Your Highness.’
‘Carlo?’
‘Si.’
‘This is Dr Szenac—she is the owner of this property. Could you walk us through it? Let us know what’s happening?’
Carlo nodded and led the way. The ground was uneven, loose bricks and rubble everywhere, so Matteo turned to offer her his hand.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Watch where you’re going and I’ll follow.’
He nodded. It was probably a good thing that she hadn’t accepted his hand. After all, he was meant to be keeping his distance.
I really must work harder on that.
* * *
Her kitchen and bathroom looked untouched by the collision, but the rest of her downstairs rooms and to some degree the rooms above had pretty much collapsed down on top of each other. The vehicle that had smacked into the villa had been a large four-wheel drive, and the driver had been going at some speed. She’d expected to see a car-shaped hole in her wall, or something, but not this. This was...shocking. This was the home she had built up since moving out of Aunt Carolina’s...
‘I’m so sorry, Krystiana,’ Matteo said as they surveyed the wreckage.
She didn’t want to cry. She had done her make-up for work later. Now she was going to look like a panda.
One of her sofas seemed to be missing. Some framed photographs lay on the floor, their glass cracked and missing fragments. Bending down, she went to pick one up. The only picture she had of her mother. Her eyes welled up again and she began to sob, her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to cry silently.
‘Hey, come here...’ Matteo pulled her towards him and she huddled against his chest, the photograph of her dead mother in her hands.
He was warm and comforting. Soothing. And although she wanted to remain there for ever she sniffed hard and pushed away from his chest, stepping out of his arms. She couldn’t. No. It wasn’t right.
‘I’m fine. Really. Show me everything, Carlo.’
Carlo looked at Matteo for permission and she saw him give a terse nod.
She followed him around, listened as he gave complicated observations about lintels and weight-bearing walls and nodded, pretending she understood everything he said. They couldn’t go upstairs. It hadn’t been made safe yet, he said. But she’d got what she needed. The one
thing that mattered. There’d been no way she was leaving her mother in the rubble. In the darkness. Like a piece of discarded litter.
‘Thank you. You’ve been very informative.’
‘How long should the work take?’ asked Matteo.
‘If we can get the supplies we need, four weeks minimum. But it may be longer than that.’
‘Do what you can. Money is no object—do you understand me?’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’
Matteo turned to her. ‘I’ll walk you back to the car.’
And he followed her through the building site that was now her home, occasionally putting the tips of his fingers on the small of her back, guiding her through.
When they reached the car, he sighed. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t return to work today?’
‘I have to. I have my own patients and Dr Bonetti’s. I can’t let them down and I won’t.’
‘All right. I’ll have the car drop you off and then pick you up again tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to. You have work too, remember?’
Matteo nodded. ‘Yes. You’re right. But it seems wrong leaving you when you’re upset.’
‘I’ll be fine. We’re strong, aren’t we?’
He smiled. ‘We’re strong. Yes.’ He glanced at the back seat of the car. ‘Want me to take Bruno?’
‘He sits in the office with me. Patients seem to like it.’ She shrugged.
‘Interesting medical student...’
‘He has a passion for bones.’
It was a lame joke, but she was trying to make light of the situation. It had been a stressful twenty-four hours, but she’d been through worse.
Matteo smiled dutifully. ‘I’ll see you at home, then.’
Home.
She got into the car, waiting for him to slide in next to her. Bruno gave a wag of his tail and licked some dust off the back of her hand.
‘Don’t wait up.’
* * *
Krystiana spent the day treating patients, and for almost six hours barely gave a thought to her ruined home or her palatial sleepover. She treated an infected jellyfish sting, a child with chicken pox, two bad sunburns, a bad case of laryngitis, gout, completed a newborn baby’s assessment, and checked a wound on the foot of a Type Two diabetic—all before lunch.
The Prince's Cinderella Doc Page 3